


Follow your feet.

by What_Was_I_Saying



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fate, Other, Peace, follow my feet, heaven concept, unlikely candidates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/What_Was_I_Saying/pseuds/What_Was_I_Saying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts in field. Disoriented you'll look around. There is nothing much to see. You stand at a rise in the ground. A hill surrounded by many.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow your feet.

      It all starts in field. Disoriented you'll look around. There is nothing much to see. You stand at a rise in the ground. A hill surrounded by many. In front of you stands a tall tree. It towers and its leaves are emeralds. Each one seemingly fragile. Residing in its lower branches hangs a torn parchment. It's covered in characters, each one is familiar, and the meaning is right there dancing within your reach, yet you can’t get a firm enough grasp. You stand on a dirt road; it breaks into two paths at the base of tree. Behind the tree a field reaches into infinity. The paths go off into different directions. The field holds nothing, but grass. A swirl of dull browns, vivid fading yellows, shaded greens, an autumn orange, and a mystifying almost blue. The sky is illuminated with the shades and tints of color you never knew existed. They play tag with clouds, that are too lazy to make a shape so they just float like stretched out cotton. You can see yourself here a million times over, but can conjurer not one image.

     Your shoulders are slumped you feel aged. Part of you wants pick a spot on the swaying grass, and just stay there for awhile, and think about the things you feel like you haven't been allowed to think about in years. You could figure out the world. Your back aches you feel like you have rolled a boulder up a hill watched it roll back down only to stupidly repeat a million times.

     Looking down you find a puddle at you feet. It reflects a crisp image. Years you don't recall have been erased. You run your hand through your hair, and there is a sensation of downy. Gone are the scares you can’t quiet to place.

     From behind you a man approaches. He’s tall and slender. His skin is so pale that in this light he is green. His movements are fluid and made with purpose. His eyes are cold and slanted. At random his tongue will dart out then right back in. He abruptly stops in-front of you. His foot lands in the puddle disturbing the water. He looks you up and down, and lifts your arm to examine it. Then he drops it and you let it fall to your side. He looks unimpressed. Finally he grabs you by the shoulders, and abruptly turns you so that you once again are facing the emerald tree with its worn parchment and paths. “So," he speaks with a strange hissing quality as he moves to your side. One hand stays firmly placed on your shoulder. “what’s it going to be?” he raises his other hand to the first of the paths" That one," he signals to the other path, “or that one?" your eyes widen.

     "Where do they lead?” the sound of our voice shocks you. It is sweeter and smaller than you remember, or at least than how you think you remember. The man releases short chuckle, and shakes head. Then he looks down at you as a sly amused smile plays across his features “Child, they both lead to the same place. Just as they always have." You shake your head. That answer seems fitting. You’re willing accept that answer. You began to walk towards the first path. As you reach were the path begins you turn your head to find the man is staring with a slim eyebrow raised. He is shocked by the choice you seem to be making. Why would it matter what choice you make if they both ended in the same place? After a moment’s hesitation you take a step onto the road.

      Suddenly, it all comes back. The emeralds on the tree grow white. A woman sits above you, holding you, there are tears in her eyes and she whispers a name over and over like she is afraid it will blow away if she stops. Ah, yes your name of course. Next the tree’s leafs turn yellow. You’re at a playground. One you will go to many times. Currently you’re holding a toy up to the boy who would become your best friend. You’re laughing. Next thing you know your both racing down to the swings. The tree turns a bright blue. You’re a teenager know standing outside the high school. He’ll make fun of you, but his leg hasn't stopped shaking all morning. He is just as nervous. The tree changes colors. A light pink, but the memory doesn't change. You know why. They walk by, and suddenly for brief moment in time you understand the complete works of Shakespeare. Well, at least the romantic ones. That moment passes all too quickly suddenly the tree is red. It’s a few years later now and you know your first heartbreak. It doesn't last long. Only parts of your life flash in color before your eyes. It was a royal blue when you graduated, a light purple when you got married, it even went white again when your kids were born, so rarely did it go dark. Then the tree had no leafs, and you drew one last breath.

     Then you’re back at the tree. You have only taken one step. The tree is green again, and you are rapidly forgetting what you have just seen. You take a step back, and look behind you. The man is still there his eyebrow raised waiting to see what you choose. "Well? Is that your choice?" he hisses. You want to say yes. From what you recall it was happy and fulfilling, but something was missing. You couldn't figure out what it is. You look at the other path and slowly you walk towards it. Just like before you stop and look at the man. He looks disinterested. He expected this. You step forward.

     The tree is white again. Your mother is holding you and whispering your name. It turns yellow like before. You’re on the playground once again holding up your toy to your best friend, but this time you’re also showing it to someone else. You don't know who at first, but then you make eye contact and you remember. How did you forget those eyes? In the beginning the colors don't change much from what they were, maybe a different shade or two but nothing important. Then you’re older, and everything is dark. You lost control somehow, and along the way you lost everything else, but not those eyes. They stayed with you through it all. Through nights when you would whisper and nights when you would yell. They stayed for the victories and the losses, and there were a lot more of the later. You where selfish when it came to those eyes. You kept them to yourself for days on end. You had many regrets in this life, but the thing you regretted most was being the reason those eyes cried. They were oceans of green with drift wood made of gold. You could get lost in them. Somehow when the tree turned light purple and white this time it meant so much more. The tree in the life was so rarely engulfed in light colors. Your eyes grew red and cheeks where hollow, but then you saw those eyes and it felt worth it. The tree seemed to lose it leafs so much quicker this time.

     Then you where back in the field, and you had only taken one step. The tree was green again, and you where rapidly forgetting what you had just seen, but you remembered the eyes. You turned around, and found the man. His stood examining his finger nails, while his tongue jutted out at random as per his habit.

      "This one," your voice was barely above a whisper. He could not hear you" I choose this one!" This time the man hears. The man looks up and rolls his eyes. He’s disappointed in your choice. He walks towards the tree, and pulls the paper from the lower branches. He turns to you, and he holds out his hand to reveal a feather pen.

     "Sign here," he points to a spot on the paper, and hands you a pen. After you sign the man takes the pen and parchment from you. “You are all so predictable." he hisses. You furrow your brow in confusion, but decided it ultimately it doesn't matter. 

**Author's Note:**

> “There's a fork in the road in front of me,  
>  At the crossroads of identity.  
>  The Devil is standing to the left.  
>  He says "Either way, they both lead to death."  
>  -‘Follow my feet’ by The Unlikely Candidates


End file.
